by Beth Yarnall
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“You’re a cynical old bastard?”
His laugh surprised me. “I object to being called old.”
I rose and headed for the door. With my hand on the knob, I turned back and gave him a wink. “Sorry to be the one to break it to you.”
“Thank you.”
Now I was the one caught off guard. “For what?”
He made a sweeping gesture.
“You’re welcome,” I answered. “Let me know what the arrangements for Shasta will be. I’d like to be there.”
“You don’t have to.”
“I know.” I opened the door and nearly walked smack dab into Detective Cruz, catching myself with a hand on his hot, hard chest. I quickly snatched it away. “Er, sorry.” I stepped to the side and back out onto the sales floor, but the detective caught up to me at the elevator.
“I guess I know now why I got shot down.”
Was he… Did he…? Oh, hell no. I folded my arms across my chest to keep myself from smacking that smug smile off his face and stared hard at the numbers above the elevator door.
“You recently got a promotion, didn’t you?” He moved in front of me. “From what I’ve learned the big boss man set Shasta Devereaux up with a job here. Maybe you didn’t like being replaced with a younger, hotter version of yourself.” He shook his head and tsked. “Messy business pitting your mistresses against each other. Maybe he was hoping for a catfight. Some men like that kind of thing.”
“You’re an ass.”
“So maybe you decided to take out the competition.”
I stared at him, balling my hands into fists, my face growing hot.
He inclined his head toward the office. “Was that you securing your position?” He made a rude hand gesture, moving his fisted hand back and forth from his mouth while poking his tongue against the inside of his cheek. “Assuming the position under his desk?”
Before I’d even formed the thought to do it, I cracked him across the cheek with the flat of my hand. His head jerked back. The sound of my palm slapping his face reverberated around us. Suddenly I found myself plastered against the metal elevator door, my arm twisted painfully behind my back. He caught my other wrist and brought it back to join my other one. His long, hard body pressed against my back, trapping me. I couldn’t breathe.
His hot breath blew across the side of my face. “That’s assaulting an officer.” He kicked my feet wide apart. “But then maybe you like it rough.”
He held both of my hands in one of his. Even if I wanted to I couldn’t twist away. He was too heavy and too strong. I sucked in a breath as he ran his other hand over my body, slowing at the parts he seemed to especially like. The click of handcuffs jumpstarted my heart into a hard rhythm. He did the whole frisking thing again, this time with both hands. His hands started to slide up my skirt.
Twisting, I elbowed him in the ear. “Go ahead and try it.” I sounded braver than I felt. “There are cameras all over this store. I won’t need a job at all when I sue you and the Scottsdale PD for sexual assault.”
He jerked me hard by the arm as the elevator doors opened, his handsome face twisted with lines of cruelty. “Maggie Mae Castro, you’re under arrest.”
Yeah, this wasn’t the first time I’d heard those words and it likely wouldn’t be the last.
Chapter Seven
I sat in a jail cell next to a woman who could crack nearly every joint in her body. She’d started at her neck and worked her way down, then up again. It was rather fascinating how she shifted her pelvis to pop her hip joints, but the noise her knees made was kinda sickening. She was just beginning her show again from the top when Super Agent appeared.
“Really? Assaulting an officer? That’s a new one for you.”
I eased into a standing position and sidled up to the bars, careful not to move too quickly. Man, was I glad to see him. “I only wish I’d gone for his nuts.” I swept out a hand, indicating my lovely cell. “It would’ve made my time here so much more worthwhile.”
A guard came over and opened the cell door. “You’re free to go.”
I slipped through the opening and slammed into Super Agent, hugging him hard. “Thank you for springing me.”
He held me back just as hard. I sucked in a breath and shifted so that his arms hit a different spot.
“You’re welcome,” he said. “I owe Detective Cruz for dropping the charges and not notifying your probation officer.”
I pushed out of his arms. “No.” Rattling the cell door, I called for the guard to come back. “I’d rather rot in this cell than owe that sadistic bastard anything.”
Super Agent’s attention snapped to my wrist. He jerked at my sleeve, revealing dark red welts and cuts where the cuffs had bit in. He pulled my hands free from the bars and examined them. “What the hell?”
I just stared stubbornly at him, my cheeks hot, my eyes stinging.
Detective Cruz had enjoyed hurting me.
Super Agent’s voice got very scary. “Where else?”
Pressing my lips together, I fixed my gaze on his and shook my head. He gently took my elbow and towed me to the end of the hall, out a door and into a bathroom. As soon as he closed and locked the door, he reached behind me and slid down the zipper at the back of my dress. I let him. Easing it off my shoulders and down my arms, he got his first look at what Cruz’s “favor” had cost.
“Son of a bitch.”
I didn’t dare look. If it looked as bad as it felt, I wouldn’t be able to keep it together. The last thing I wanted was to show any weakness here at the police station where I might run into Cruz and he’d see it. He never saw me cry. No matter what he did, I hadn’t given him the satisfaction.
“Did he…?”
I shook my head so Super Agent didn’t have to say it. No, Cruz hadn’t raped me. I didn’t know why he hadn’t. He could’ve. I’d been handcuffed and helpless, and he’d been extremely pissed off.
Super Agent brought me carefully into his chest, with a hand at the back of my head and the other around my waist. I flinched when his finger hit the bump on the base of my skull. Pulling back to watch my face, he gingerly ran his fingers over my scalp, his full lips pressed flat.
“That’s the only one,” I told him. “I think.”
He nodded and helped me put my dress back on. I couldn’t read his expression. Other than the occasional jaw tick and grim set to his mouth, he gave nothing away. When I was finally put back together, he took my hand and kissed the back of it, then led me out of the bathroom without another word.
The next couple of hours went by in a blur. After Super Agent spoke to Cruz’s commanding officer, he took me to the hospital where I was examined. Photos were taken. Questions were asked. I couldn’t look at Super Agent during that part.
He never said anything and never left my side. I thought I’d been holding it together for me because I’m just that stubborn, but really I’d kept a tight rein on my emotions for Super Agent. It was almost like a competition. When I felt him coming close to losing it, I put more steel in my spine and resolve in my tone. When my voice wobbled, he visibly tensed, giving me the strength I needed to power through.
When I was released, Super Agent drove me home. We hadn’t spoken more than the necessary words to each other since he’d come to bail me out of jail. We got to my house and found a plain brown box about the size of a shoebox on my doormat. Probably those shoes I shouldn’t have ordered but were too cute to resist. Super Agent picked it up and set it on the coffee table for me when we went inside.
“Thanks for…everything.” I tried for cheery, clasping my hands together and pasting on a smile. “I was thinking of ordering a pizza if you want to stay. Or if you have plans, that’s cool.”
“I’ll stay.”
“Okay, well.” This was awkward. “If you want to go ahead and order the pizza, I’m fine with whatever.” I hooked a thumb down the hall behind me. “I’m just going to take a shower and w
ash off the prison funk.” I started to back up. “There’s wine on the counter and beer in the fridge. Just help yourself.”
“Do you need any help?”
“No. I’m good. Been taking a shower on my own for a while now.”
“Maggie?”
I’d turned to go down the hall, but his voice brought me back around. “Yeah?”
He looked around the room as if it might give him a clue as to what he wanted to say. Finally his gaze landed back on me. “Could I stay with you while you take a shower?”
I tilted my head to the side.
He rubbed a hand over his smooth head. “I’m not asking to…you know. I’ll just lean against the counter or sit on the toilet lid and keep you company. If you want.”
Now it was my turn to search for words, but I couldn’t come up with any so I just nodded and headed down the hall. He followed. I turned the water on and started to undress. He stood just outside the bathroom door, his face averted. He’d seen me in my underwear. Heck, he’d seen me fully naked on one occasion and been nose to skin with my body. His chivalry was sweet.
As soon as I’d climbed in and closed the shower curtain, I heard Super Agent lower the toilet lid and sit down. Tipping my head back and closing my eyes, I let the hot water flow over me. And that was when everything hit me. I buckled under the weight of the images that crashed over me. His face, the way he’d smelled, the ugly things he’d said…and done. The pain. Gasping, I swiped a blind hand out for purchase, hitting the shower curtain. Super Agent caught it, then stepped in and caught me.
Wrapping myself around him, I gripped handfuls of his shirt, needing his solidity. The water beat down on us, soaking his clothes. He held me, whispering nonsense to me as I tried to catch my breath. I fought hard. I wasn’t going to break down. I wasn’t going to let that asshole get any more of me than he already had.
Somewhere along the way my lips found Super Agent’s and I kissed him as though I needed the feel of him to keep breathing. He kissed me back the same way. I don’t know what happened to his clothes. It all got so frenzied and overwhelming. Hands were everywhere, his and mine. And then he lifted me, shut the water off, toweled us both off and carried me into the bedroom.
Ever so gently, he laid me on the bed. The look in his eyes made me flush, heating up my already oversensitized skin. He was so beautiful in the meager lamplight that for a moment I almost didn’t think he was real. His gaze traveled over my body, taking in the bruises and marks between my tattoos.
“Don’t,” I warned. “Don’t look at them.”
“I’m not sure how to touch you.”
I reached over and turned out the light, settling the darkness around us. “Now come here, close your eyes and figure it the hell out.”
Chapter Eight
I’ve never been good at asking for favors even though I was often too generous when it came to granting them. I’ve never borrowed money other than from a bank. I’ve never gotten a pet or house plant so that I didn’t have to ask anyone to take care of it when I went out of town. I’ve never asked anyone for help with anything. Ever.
But the night before I’d come so close to begging Super Agent to help me forget. Fortunately I didn’t have to. Somehow he knew what I’d needed without me having to ask. His touch was a balm that soothed more than my fear—it smoothed out some of the roughest places inside me. He made me feel treasured. This man gave me what I couldn’t and wouldn’t ask for.
In the cold, pale light of morning, lying next to him, I wanted to reach out to him. It seemed that I wasn’t done needing him and that scared the ever-living hell out of me.
Or maybe it was because this was an old pattern for me, getting swept away in the moment without thinking things through. I wanted to be with Super Agent. I did. But I didn’t exactly have the best record where men were concerned. No looking before leaping for me. No, I was a dive headfirst kind of gal only to find out later there was no water, or if there was, it was infested with sharks.
I was supposed to be changing my life and my habits, and yet last night I’d slipped right back into them without a thought or backward glance. Part of me didn’t regret it. But that part was an avid slut who’d loved every single minute of tangling the sheets with Super Agent. The other part of me, my practical side, was holding the umbrella of regret over the whole business, casting shadows over my enjoyment. She was an evil bitch who took the fun out of everything. She was also the one I should’ve listened to in the first place.
Sliding to the other side of the bed, careful not to wake Super Agent and face the morning-after good mornings, I climbed out and put on my robe, then went in search of coffee. My body complained, reminding me of what I’d been through yesterday. I still hadn’t been able to bring myself to see the damage. Cleopatra had nothing on me.
While the coffee dripped I went to my small corner desk and opened my laptop. My email had exploded overnight. There were about twelve from Xavier. I groaned at one subject line: Maggie’s perp walk take #36. Great. The reporters hovering outside the store must’ve caught Cruz dragging me out to his car.
I opened the email and clicked on the link. Yup. There I was in all my handcuffed glory. The video was choppy and grainy, but I could clearly make out the shouts of the reporters. It hadn’t been that long since my last videoed perp walk when I was wrongly arrested for murdering Chuck Puckett. It seemed that the reporters hadn’t forgotten me or the clever nickname they’d given me—Murdering Maggie.
Oh, yay. Someone had created a YourVid channel just for my perp walks. Some of them were duplicates, but still! There were nine videos in all. I groaned and deleted the rest of Xav’s emails unopened. He was such a jerk.
Wait. I didn’t remember sending myself an email. I opened it. What the…?
I stood up so fast I knocked the chair over. No. No, no, no, no, no. That couldn’t be right.
“What’s wrong?”
I turned to find a very naked Super Agent holding a big gun. And no, that wasn’t a euphemism. Stunned beyond the ability to form words, I jabbed a finger at my computer.
He strode over and had a look for himself. “My dearest Maggie Mae,” Super Agent read aloud, a deep frown settling between his dark eyes. “I’ve watched and worried about you. You’ve been so upset. I would do anything for you and so I have. Imitation is not the sincerest form of flattery. She had to go so I could see you smile once again. Remember…you’re mine, Maggie. Only mine.”
Super Agent’s furious gaze met mine.
“Is he saying what I think he’s saying?” I’d read it and had it read to me and I still couldn’t believe it. Why? Why would someone do such a thing?
“That he killed your coworker because he’s obsessed with you…yes.”
Poor Shasta. Poor Mr. Stratford. Some maniac had killed Shasta because of me. Me. I was hardly worth obsessing over, let alone killing for. What had I done to attract and encourage this person? This was all my fault.
He pointed to the return email address. “How is this right? You sent the email to yourself?”
“No. Of course not. He must’ve hacked my account or sent it from my cell phone. My cell phone!” I rushed to my purse and started pawing through it. “Nooooo. Not my cell phone too.”
“When was the last time you saw it? Wait. What do you mean not your cell phone too?”
“I’ve been misplacing things. Just little things…until now. Damn it.”
“What kinds of little things?” He was using his FBI-Special-Agent voice again, questioning me like I was a witness before I’d even had my coffee. Not smart.
“Remember when I couldn’t find my pill case? That’s one thing. Ah, the lipstick I keep in my uniform pocket. The lucky Euro my ex-boyfriend Niccolo gave me when he took me to Italy. The hairband I always keep in my purse to put my hair up. A pair of earrings Chuck Puckett had given me that were also in my purse—”
“So things that you carried in your purse or on your person, correct?”
&nbs
p; “Yeah, pretty much.”
“Hmm.”
“Hmm, what?”
“What does this part mean?” Super Agent pointed to the postscript at the bottom of the email. “What ‘gift’ is he talking about?”
At first I had no idea what he could be referring to, and then it hit me. I swiveled my head toward the package Super Agent had brought in that had been sitting on my porch last night. There it sat on my coffee table in all its creepy glory. Super Agent followed my gaze, then stomped over—still gloriously, fantastically naked, my slut side pointed out—and picked up the box with his non-gun-toting hand.
I averted my eyes and swished a hand at him. “Would you put that thing away?”
“I don’t remembering you having an issue with guns.”
“Yeah, no. You should probably put your gun away too.”
He grunted a laugh and put the box back down. “Don’t touch that.”
While he went to cover himself up, I couldn’t stop myself from tiptoeing over to the coffee table for a closer look at the package. I didn’t recognize the neat block lettering. And unfortunately there was no return address like Stalker McObsession, 1234 Crazy Drive, Insane Town, AZ (come and get me!). That would’ve been a tremendous help.
Super Agent came back with a towel wrapped around his waist and his wet clothes. “Can I put these in the dryer?”
Oh, right. I’d forgotten how he’d left his clothes in the tub when we’d erm…ah…you know. I took them from him and put them in to dry. When I got back he was sitting on the couch with the box open in front of him.
“Hey,” I said. “You’d think I’d get to open my own present. It’s not like I get very many.”
He scowled at me as I sat down next to him. “You mean like trips to Italy and jewelry?” Well, when he put it like that, I guess I did get the occasional bauble or two. “I’ll buy you a damn present. Or three,” he grumbled. He was so touchy on this subject. “And flowers.”
“Well, gee, you sure know how to make a girl feel all gooshy and special.”